


Fledglings

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Consensual spanking, Corporal Punishment, Footnotes, Kissing, Non-Consensual Spanking, Other, Punishment, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Spanking, Sweet, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 04:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: In which an Angel and a Demon need to be punished before we can leave Eden behind for the rest of the story.A little divine magical discipline, a couple of whippy switches, and two sore, striped bottoms. Plus a lot of heart.





	Fledglings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under My Wing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142238) by [Dusty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty). 

Aziraphale stood in the Garden at the edge of a gently flowing stream. He looked around nervously with wet, red-rimmed eyes before slowly pulling his arms out of their sleeves and slipping his white robe up and over his head. Naked, he held the gown ever so demurely against the front of his body. His bare skin was alabaster white. Aside, of course, from the collection of pink raised welts striped across his plump bottom. The angel turned and craned his neck to look at its reflection in the water and reached back to gently rub his hand over the stinging flesh. He winced and sighed, lips coming together in a little pout.

Coiled in a nearby tree, Crawly raised his serpentine head to look, interest piqued. The demon watched Aziraphale reluctantly let the robe fall to the ground. He stepped into the stream and squatted down, dipping his inflamed buttocks into the cool water. The angel closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and sighed in bliss.

“Angel, what happened to you?” Crawly asked.

“Oh!” Aziraphale bolted upright and scrambled out of the water, the soft parts of his body jiggling in a pleasant sort of way. He snatched up his robe and pressed it protectively to his chest. “What are you still doing here?!” Aziraphale wished he still had his flaming sword, but oh! - that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Or what had caused him (and his bottom!) such trouble, at least. If only he had thought things through . . .

Crawly slipped down from the tree and made his way towards the angel. Aziraphale took several steps back, but the snake was quick, slithering behind to get a closer look at the puzzling state of the angel’s backside.

“No!” Aziraphale cried, spinning away and trying to wrap the tangled robe around his body to cover his naked behind. “Don’t look!”

“Why not?” Crawly asked, moving around the angel again. “What happened to your bottom?”

“Nothing!” Aziraphale flushed, grateful that the demon clearly hadn’t _witnessed_ his punishment. Though he still didn’t want Crawly to see its conspicuous evidence. He was supposed to be the _good_ one, after all, but his marked up backside was making him feel so _naughty_.

Aziraphale kept trying to turn away while Crawly persistently circled the angel in an attempt to examine his backside until they were doing a rather silly pirouette. This made it quite impossible for Aziraphale to preserve his dignity since the robe kept slipping and his striped bottom kept wobbling with his frantic movement. Finally, they stopped their little dance, facing off against one another.

“Come on, pleassse, let me sssseee!” Crawly hissed.

“No!” Aziraphale wrapped the robe around his waist, clutching it tightly. “It’s too shameful! Go away!”

“I want to know what happened,” Crawly glanced skyward and then lowered his voice, “Was it the Almi- _Her_? Did _She_ do that to you?”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled and he let out a broken little sob, “Oh, if you _must_ know - yes! She p-punished me! And it's all your fault!"[1]

Crawly quirked his head, flitting out his tongue, “You’re not fallen. You still smell of Heaven.”

Aziraphale seized up in terror, remembering that things could have been much, much worse for him. “N-no! Of course not! It wasn’t like that at all!”

“Come on, Let me see,” Crawly asked again.

Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped, defeated. “Oh all right, fine!” He turned and stuck out his bottom, squeezing his eyes shut and blushing pink all over his pale skin.

Crawly held his head aloft to look closely at the welts covering the angel’s buttocks. He hissed and nodded with understanding, something dark crossing over his yellow eyes. “Yessss, She’s quite vengeful, isn’t She?”

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Aziraphale said defensively, pulling his robe back on over his head. He _loved_ God. Even if he was feeling a bit petulant at the moment. “You mustn’t think that way! It wasn’t like _that_, you see . . . ”

* * *

  
_Earlier_

“Aziraphale, are you _lying_ to me?” The Almighty’s voice echoed loudly from above.

Of course She would know. How foolish of him! Aziraphale trembled as he felt God’s anger and disappointment wash over him. “I - I … I just … I didn’t mean to … Oh! I’m so sorry, Lord!”

He dropped to his knees and prostrated himself in the sand outside the Garden wall, mumbling apologies and making promises to be good.

“I’m very disappointed in your behavior, Aziraphale. Return to the Garden at once. You have a lesson to learn before I send you out into the world.”

The angel looked up quizzically, squinting into the blinding, brilliant light. He had been expecting something worse, something _more_. Sent out into the world to do what?

“You shall be a Principality,” the Almighty answered his unspoken question. “Not a demotion, _per se_ but perhaps more fitting for you, all things considered. However, that isn’t your punishment, Aziraphale. Now, return to the Garden. Don’t make me ask you again. We’re going to have a little _discussion_ inside.”

Aziraphale swallowed nervously. He stood and brushed the sand from his robe. He’d already closed up the opening in the gate that the humans had used, so he unfurled his wings and flew over the wall, landing softly on the grass inside. He felt the Almighty’s eyes on him the entire way. He tucked his wings out of sight and then stood wringing his hands apprehensively.

“Aziraphale,” Her voice was booming now. He cowered. “You disobeyed, shirked your duties, and lied. And now, you will be thusly punished.”

A gust of wind lifted him high into the air. He squawked as he was upended, bottom to the sky where the Almighty’s Grace shone down on him. Aziraphale’s arms were suddenly pinned by his sides as though tied and his robe slipped up his back, baring him below the waist.

“No, don’t, please!” he cried out, the shame threatening to overwhelm him.

“Hush, Aziraphale! Unless you’d like to add insolence to your list of misdeeds?”

“Oh, no! No, of course not! I’m sorry, Lord!”

“I thought not.”

He felt almost like he was bent over a soft cushion, though it looked as though he was merely suspended, floating on nothing in midair. It was terribly embarrassing to be so _exposed_, bare bottom illuminated by Her Holy Light, presented for some sort of chastisement. He quivered in apprehension over what that might be.

Suddenly, he heard a loud _snap_, and saw that a thin stick had just been broken off a nearby tree. His heart raced, and he watched it float behind him, and then he heard a _swish, flick, thwip!_ as the thin switch began whipping his bottom.

These alarming sounds were quickly followed by a burst of burning flame across his tail and he howled, face twisting in shock and indignation. The Almighty was _hitting_ him! And it really, really hurt!

“For your transgressions, I’m giving you a sound thrashing. Reflect on your behavior, Aziraphale, as I impart a reminder to do better upon your hide.”

The switch continued vigorously striking him over and over. It stung unbearably! Aziraphale screeched. He kicked and writhed. Tears filled his eyes and then flowed down his cheeks. But the thin whippy little branch kept relentlessly lashing his naked buttocks.

“You may kick and cry all you want, little one, but I will see you thoroughly chastised,” God said sternly.

As if he had a choice in the matter! He futilely peddled his bare feet in the air, begging, crying, and vowing to never be naughty again. It was mostly desperate babbling, and God knew it. She showed no mercy, striping his soft, pale backside with angry red welts he wouldn’t soon forget.

Before, Aziraphale had known nothing of pain, but he was quickly learning that a thin stick whipped across his bare bottom was utter agony. He would do _anything_ to avoid this. He would be a perfect angel. He would never transgress again. He would always do the right thing no matter what.[2] With these thoughts in his head and a blazing fire in his bottom, he gave a broken, defeated sob and the switching finally stopped.

Aziraphale was gently placed back on his feet on the ground and his arms freed. He gave a little yelp as his robe slid down over his backside. He sniffled and wiped piteously at his tearstained face. His throbbing bottom was very well-smote, leaving him tearful and contrite.

“I hope you understand why I had to do that, my little lamb,” the Almighty said. “It would be irresponsible for me not to guide my flock. I was hard on you so you won’t forget yourself again, Aziraphale.”

“Yes, of course, Lord,” he said, hiccuping.

“And now you’re forgiven, little one.”

The essence beaming down was warm and filled with love. Aziraphale closed his eyes and basked in it.

“Can I trust you to wait here in the Garden and behave yourself until I’m ready to send you on your way?”

“Oh, yes, Lord!” he absently brought a hand to rub at his tender rear end, wincing.

“You won’t be able to heal that with a miracle, of course,” The Almighty warned, and he quickly (and guiltily) clasped his hands at his front. “But if you so much as try, I will know, and then we will repeat this lesson again. Am I understood, Aziraphale?”

“Yes! That won’t be necessary, I promise! I’ll be good!”

And he meant it. He had no intention of being a bad angel again. Sore and sorry, he’d learnt his lesson and was filled with contrition.

Although he didn’t think there would be any harm in cooling his sore bottom in the nearby stream . . .

* * *

_Later_

“Do you see, Crawly? The Almighty wasn’t being cruel. It was merely a . . . a correction. For disobedience and lying,” Aziraphale said. He gave the tender ridges on his bottom a gentle rub and sighed. “Yes, it hurts, but I deserved it, and now I feel … absolved.”

“I ssssee,” the serpent said.

“Really!” Aziraphale insisted. “There was something cleansing about being . . . chastised, and then forgiven.”

Crawly huffed, “Yes, well, that’s all well and good for _you_. Forgivenesssss,” he hissed with no small amount of scorn. “The Almighty won’t have any of that for _me_.”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “Oh, right, of course. I forgot.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment.

“Well, perhaps, um, _your side_ will punish you instead?” Aziraphale said hopefully.

“Hell isn’t going to punish me for a job well done, stupid!” Crawly said. “I was supposed to cause trouble, and I did that in spades. I’ll probably get some kind of _commendation_.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “Do you _feel_ guilty? I mean for how things turned out for them - the humans?”

“What?! No!” Crawly reared back, poised to strike. “No! Of course not. I’m a _demon_, remember? Why would I feel _guilty_? Ridiculous!”

“Well, I’m sorry!” Aziraphale said, backing away from the angry serpent. “I was just asking! No need to be so tetchy.”

“Hmmph,” Crawly said, coiling around himself in a snit.

Annoyance flared in Aziraphale’s chest. He was only trying to help! “Well, maybe someone _should_ punish you. You were _very_ naughty, you know!”

Crawly tucked his head into his coils, ignoring the angel. Aziraphale didn’t know why he was even bothering to talk to this demon. He should just leave things well enough alone. Hadn’t his sore bottom taught him anything? He turned away from Crawly and leaned against the base of a tree to await word from the Almighty (sitting down was still absolutely out of the question!)

Several minutes had passed when Crawly finally spoke again, “Maybe I do feel _a little bit_ sorry. I mean, I know I was supposed to cause trouble, but I _liked_ her. Eve, I mean. Is it really fair for us to toy with them like this?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, well, I don’t know,” he said, flustered. “They have free will, don’t they? If it’s all part of the plan, then, I suppose it’s - ”

“Don’t say, ineffable, please. I’m trying to . . . have a moment here!” Crawly groaned in frustration. “Now I really _do_ feel guilty. What am I supposed to do about it, huh?”

“I don’t suppose you could, I don’t know, commit some good deeds to atone?”

Crawly seemed to consider it[3], then shook his head quickly, “No, there’s no way I could do that. Hell wouldn’t overlook something like that. No, maybe I need a . . . what did you call it? That thing the Almi- _She_ did to you? A _flashing_?”

Aziraphale flushed and rolled his eyes, “A thrashing!”

“Yeah, that. _She_ won’t do it, but you could!”

The angel was having trouble keeping up, “Hold on, wait just a moment. Are you asking me to . . . strike you?”

“Sure! It made _you_ feel better, didn’t it?”

“It really hurts, you know. Don’t take it lightly.”

“I’m not! I swear. I’m asking you to do it. Isn’t it part of your job to smite demons?”

Aziraphale contemplated this. The thought of spanking some sense into the demon who had gone and ruined everything (all right, who had been _somewhat_ responsible in stirring up all the trouble) did have a certain appeal.

“Please?” Crawly pushed.

“Oh, all right,” Aziraphale said. “But I can’t do it right with you looking like that!”

Crawly’s serpent body stretched and mutated. Aziraphale recognized the (fallen)angel-shaped person with shocking red hair draped in a black robe standing in front of him.

“You won’t want your wings in the way, either,” Aziraphale said before he started scanning the trees for a suitable switch.

“Oh, right,” Crawly tucked his dark feathers out of sight.

Aziraphale spotted a thin branch that looked about right and used a minor miracle to cut it free. He took a couple of practice swings to test it out, and it whistled in the air. Yes, that would do nicely. Well, not so nice for the demon, he supposed!

He used the switch to point towards a fallen log that was (ever so conveniently) covered in soft moss. “Bend over that, if you would.”

Crawly hesitated for only one unsure moment before steeling himself and obeying. He draped his slender body over the felled tree.

“You’ll need to, ah, ruck up your robe,” Aziraphale said. “Yes, like that, above your waist. There you are.”

Crawly’s narrow bottom was now exposed, covered with a subtle dusting of freckles. Aziraphale’s face grew oddly warm and he cleared his throat. He supposed he ought to do a bit of scolding. It’s what the Almighty had done.

“You were a very wicked little serpent, you know, meddling in the humans’ affairs and tempting them to evil. I’m going to give you a good thrashing now to teach you a lesson!”

This was more difficult than he expected. It felt strange, weighty even to be in the role of disciplinarian, and Aziraphale suddenly felt a burst of appreciation for the Almighty’s guiding hand. She certainly had her work cut out for her.

Deciding he’d better get started before he lost his nerve, Aziraphale raised the switch and whipped it down across the middle of Crawly’s small buttocks.

“Yeeeooowwwwchhh!” The demon leapt up, hands flying behind to rub out the sting. “Holy Heaven, that smartsss!”

Aziraphale frowned, “You need to stay in position and accept your punishment for this to work, Crawly. It’s supposed to hurt!” Aziraphale knew. His own bottom still itched and throbbed.

“Ok, ok,” Crawly bent over again. He pulled up his robe again, revealing one dark pink line across both cheeks as he repositioned himself. This time, he tightly gripped a branch to help stay put. “I’m ready now.

The angel brought the switch down quickly three times - _thwick, thwick, thwick_ \- and then paused, allowing the demon a moment to shout and stamp his feet. He snapped the stick down again, a little harder. Crawly instantly reached back, hands blocking his bottom, and looked imploringly over his shoulder at Aziraphale.

“It hurtsss too much, Angel, please!”

Now Aziraphale was beginning to get angry. The demon had _asked_ for this punishment, this absolution, and now he was trying to slither out of it? Not on this Cherub - er - Principality’s watch! Aziraphale had taken his own licks, so Crawly should, too.

“Move your hands, now!” he commanded, adding in a touch of divine power to his voice.

Crawly cringed at the holy influence directed towards him, reluctantly bringing his hands back to clutch again at the tree branches. Of course, Aziraphale _could_ have bound him in place, but it somehow felt important that Crawly submit. Aziraphale hadn’t had been given a choice, but the demon had _wanted_ this. _Needed_ it.

Aziraphale began to whip the demon’s bottom again. After several strokes, he could see Crawly was struggling with his composure. After a particularly sharp blow, Crawly flung a hand back again, but Aziraphale was ready and caught it. He laced their fingers together, and held Crawly’s hand at the base of his spine. The angel gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Once Aziraphale felt the demon relax and was sure he wasn’t going to fight, he raised the switch again. He settled into a slow and steady pace, whipping the branch across the demon’s bottom. He left thin red welts across the narrow expanse from hip to hip.

Crawly gripped Aziraphale’s hand for dear life, writhing and sobbing as his buttocks were thoroughly switched. Finally, when Aziraphale was satisfied with the (sorry and striped) state of the demon’s backside, he tossed the implement aside and patted Crawly’s heaving back.

“There, there,” he crooned, heart breaking at the demon’s sniffles. Aziraphale wondered if the Almighty had felt similarly after _he_ had been punished.

Crawly cried for a few moments while Aziraphale rubbed his back. Then, the demon mumbled something.

“Sorry, what was that?” Aziraphale asked.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Aziraphale softened. “You’re forgiven - well, I forgive you.”

Crawly pushed himself up, and Aziraphale empathized with the wince he made when his robe fell back into place. The angel gave a surprised little _Oh!_ when the demon wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in Aziraphale’s chest.

“Thank you,” the demon said, voice muffled.

“You’re very welcome, my dear,” Aziraphale said, returning Crawly’s embrace.

Crawly looked up at the angel with wide, wet eyes and pink cheeks. Aziraphale’s heart sped. He hardly knew what he was doing, but he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the demon’s lips. He felt the demon take in a sharp breath before kissing back.

Wet mouths, flushed cheeks, weak knees, they both made their way to the ground, slowed by a mutual reluctance to separate their lips. They knelt, of course, to spare their well-whipped bottoms. They continued to kiss, clutching at each other tightly. They were consumed by puzzling, tingly feelings with no clear notion what to do with them.[4]

* * *

From above, the Almighty watched them, smiling. She smiled a lot. Things were always turning out just a bit differently than She expected, and it was brilliant.

For now, She was wholly satisfied that _both_ Her naughty fledglings had received some well-deserved discipline that day. The dark one may be out of Her direct reach, but that had been the only way to put him in Aziraphale’s path. She wouldn’t regret it. These two were crucial to the plan, and it had started off swimmingly.

So let them enjoy their sweet kisses for now. The future had many hard times in store for them, but together they would make it through. They had eternity, after all.[5]

**Author's Note:**

> 1This wasn’t in any way true, of course, and Aziraphale knew it. However, he was terribly embarrassed and generally prone to defensive outbursts in such situations. His temperment here serves as evidence that he would be deserving of many, many more punishments throughout his immortal life. Here we can assume from the state of his bottom that “punishment” means “spanking.”[return to text]
> 
> 2He wouldn't, in fact.[return to text]
> 
> 3This line of thought would, of course, stick stubbornly, and Crawly would find himself tending towards an undemonlike kindness in the way he sowed evil in the future.[return to text]
> 
> 4Later, they would discover how to channel those tingly feelings into making lustful efforts. And much, much later, they would turn those efforts towards one another.[return to text]
> 
> 5Or rather approximately six thousand years.[return to text]
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://hiphopanonymousao3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
